The Secrets of Silk

by Allison Hobbs

  Worked into tears over the loss of the fancy clothes that Nathan Lee had bought her and the hundreds of dollars she’d scuffled and killed for, she covered her face with her hands and cried bitter tears.

  “It’s going to be all right, Silk. We’ll look out for you. Unfortunately, there’s not a lot of room at Buddy’s house, but we’ll manage to squeeze you in. What do you plan to do about your teaching position?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t take the exam without showing proof that I have a teaching certificate.”

  “Can’t you send for another one?”

  “I suppose, but that’ll take some time.”

  “I’m going back to Biloxi after the funeral is over, and I think you should travel with me. Maybe teaching so far away from home isn’t a good idea. There’re lots of kids that need teaching in the South.”

  “I suppose,” Silk said glumly.

  “Don’t worry about bus fare. I’m sure the Christian folks of Chester will be willing to pitch in with donations to buy you a bus ticket back home.”

  • • •

  The small, two-story, wood-frame home on Flower Street with a stone path leading to the front door was a delight to the eyes, but the funeral wreath of dark-colored flowers and a black bow that hung on the front door was a reminder that the household was in mourning. The well-cared-for home was surrounded by numerous tall trees, high shrubs, and rosebushes, isolating it from the cluster of cookie-cutter, white brick, government houses that were on the opposite side of the street, and down-a-ways a bit.

  Looking over her shoulder, she could see the shadowy figures of some of the residents of the barracks-type houses. She could hear their distant voices, and the faint sound of music. She sensed a liveliness and vitality in that area that pulled on her like a magnet.

  “Come on, let’s go inside, Silk,” Clara prodded.

  Distraught over losing her money and clothing, Silk didn’t have to fake a solemn expression when she entered the house. The teardrops that trickled from her eyes were heartfelt.

  Inside the house, grown-ups were drinking liquor and their plates were piled with all kinds of soul food from pig’s feet and collard greens to pineapple upside-down cake and monkey bread. While the adults were drinking and filling their faces, the children were underfoot, squealing as they ripped and ran without supervision. Being stuck in a house filled with a bunch of snotty-nosed kids was not the way she envisioned her new life in the North. The thought of her predicament caused Silk to bury her face in her hands and cry.

  Clara patted her on the back comfortingly. “Shh. Shh. It’s okay. I know you have a sensitive heart, and seeing these little, motherless children is awfully hard to bear, but we’re all trying to hold ourselves together for their sake. We told them their mother is resting with the angels, surrounded in God’s glory. The fact that they’ll never see her alive again hasn’t hit them yet.” Clara choked up briefly and then pulled herself together. “Why don’t you come on upstairs with me and change out of that wrinkled dress? You’re a little smaller than me, but I think you can fit my clothes. I’ll introduce you to everyone after you freshen up.”

  Mourners who gathered in the small dining area stealthily cut their eyes at Silk as Clara escorted her up the stairs. No doubt they’d already been told of the stolen suitcase disaster and were being considerate enough not to openly stare.

  Clara ran bathwater for Silk and poured in a generous amount of Jean Naté bath oil that had belonged to her dead sister-in-law. She laid clean clothes and underwear across the bed that had been shared by the deceased and her husband.

  After the relaxing bath, which was a great luxury compared to the quick wash-ups she was accustomed to at home where there was no electricity or running water, Silk felt refreshed and in high spirits. Her mood quickly shifted when she noticed the drab gray dress Clara had loaned her. One glance at the brassiere and panties and she knew they were much too large for her.

  Bra and panty-less, she put on the ugly dress that was several sizes too big. She tightened the belt that was attached to the garment in an attempt to make it fit better. Glancing around the bedroom, she was struck by the modern furnishings in the tidy room. She snooped in the closet and inside the drawers and couldn’t help admiring the stylish clothes and colorful array of nylon panties. She quickly came to the conclusion that Ernestine had a great sense of style and flair.

  Buddy was obviously a good provider, and that insurance money he had coming was an extra bonus. I better hurry up and get myself downstairs and make his acquaintance before some other woman tries to take advantage of the fact that he’s grieving and vulnerable. The pack of brats Buddy was saddled with wasn’t an ideal situation, but Silk decided to do her best to get along with her future stepchildren.

  She smiled, imagining herself settling down with Buddy and being treated like a queen. Buddy couldn’t offer her the kind of luxury that Nathan Lee had promised, but he could provide a comfortable lifestyle. With that insurance money he was entitled to, there might be enough for Silk to get herself a shiny, new car. She wondered what Buddy looked like. Was he red as clay and handsome as Duke Durnell or flabby and unattractive like Pudgy Hales? It don’t matter. I’m gonna make that hard-working widower my husband even if he’s sporting a peg leg and a glass eye.

  With marriage on her mind, Silk sat down at the dead woman’s vanity table and picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her hair. Instead of letting her locks hang loose, which always garnered compliments, she pulled in into a plain bun that downplayed her attractiveness. In the looks department, the average woman couldn’t hold a candle next to Silk, and she didn’t want to intimidate any of the plain-Jane mourners into putting up their guard around her. Nor did she want to provoke them into putting a protective circle around the grieving husband, and making Silk’s goal of seducing Buddy and roping him in, much more difficult than it needed to be.

  It was laughable that Clara thought Silk would get back on a bus and return to the South when everything she needed, minus the kids, was right here in this house. For starters, there was a closet filled with clothes as well as bureau drawers stuffed with undergarments and other womanly paraphernalia that wasn’t currently being used. She gazed at the vanity table top and selected from an ample collection of Avon perfume, a scent called Unforgettable. Smiling, at her reflection, she spritzed herself with the fragrant mist.

  Clara tapped on the door. “Are you decent?” she asked.

  “Come on in,” Silk replied, as if she were already the woman of the house.

  “That dress is a little loose on you, but you still look like a million bucks,” Clara complimented.

  “Thanks, I feel much better. But I feel so silly not being able to hold on to my belongings, I dread facing your family and friends—especially your brother. I feel awful intruding on him during his time of sorrow.”

  “Buddy’s having a rough time, but he has good manners and a charitable heart, and he told me that it was okay for you to stay here. He’s at the hospital right now, visiting the twins.” Clara shook her head. “Those babies are barely clinging to life, but Buddy goes to visit them for a few hours every day. Handling the funeral arrangements, going through all the red tape with that insurance business, and seeing about those twins is keeping him so busy, he’ll hardly notice you at all.”

  That’s what you think! Buddy’s gonna be doing a lot more than merely noticing me.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Is there anything I can do to help out around here and earn my keep?” Silk asked.

  “Nothing I can think of off the bat. There’s lots of food on hand and the ladies from Ernestine and Buddy’s church are keeping the house nice and tidy.” Clara gazed upward in thought. “With you being a teacher and all, you’re probably good with kids. Maybe you can keep an eye on the children and keep them in line. With their mother gone on home to glory, and their daddy distracted with funeral business and the baby twins, the boys are running around like wild heathens. My nie
ce has always been the quiet type, but she seems to be withdrawing even more. That child is going to need a mother even more so than her brothers. And those sickly, newborn twins…” Clara’s expression turned grim. “I don’t know what Buddy is going to do about them.”

  Taking care of snot-nose kids was the last thing Silk wanted to be in charge of, but she smiled demurely and said, “I’ll make sure the children spend their time constructively.” “Spending time constructively” was a phrase she’d borrowed from one of her former teachers.

  Though her beauty couldn’t be denied, she’d made herself look as nonthreatening and innocent as possible by scrubbing her face clean of rouge, powder, and lipstick and by styling her hair in a plain bun. When Clara introduced her to small group of church ladies, Silk presented a bashful smile.

  “You poor dear, we heard about your misfortune,” said Sister Beverly, who was holding Clara’s baby. Beverly had on a beige hat with a cluster of white flowers in the front. She appeared to be in her forties and was obviously the spokesperson for the group of church women.

  “Philadelphia is full of con artists; it’s not a safe place for a righteous woman to be wandering around alone,” said Sister Beverly.

  Silk nodded. “I found out the hard way.”

  “So, you’re a teacher, are you? I heard you’re going to be teaching at a private school.”

  “Yes ma’am. I am. This will be my first year teaching school.”

  “Where’s the school located? It must be well hidden because I’ve never heard of any Christian School for colored children in Chester,” Sister Beverly continued. The other women who were gathered around the dining room table murmured in agreement.

  Silk’s eyes darted back and forth as she thought up a lie. “It hasn’t opened yet. The trustees are still looking for a building.”

  Sister Beverly raised a brow. “Who are the trustees? I know all the Christian folks in this area.”

  “Well, they’re actually white missionaries who were traveling through Louisiana, recruiting teachers for Christian schools they’re opening in different parts of the country. I already had a teaching position lined up in Louisiana, but I loved the idea of doing the Lord’s work, and so I took a chance and traveled all the way here. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to get in touch with those missionaries because all the information was in my suitcase.” Silk shook her head pitifully. “I’ll be heading south with Clara when she leaves after the funeral.” Silk wiped away imaginary tears.

  Clara put a comforting arm around Silk’s shoulder. “Silk’s beau is training to become a doctor, and I’m sure he’ll be pleased to have her back in Louisiana. They’re fixing to get married around Christmastime.”

  “Oh, you’re going to be a doctor’s wife?” Sister Beverly smiled in approval.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s not official, but I’m guessing he’s going to pop the question and give me a ring by Christmas.”

  “Tell the ladies about your hope chest,” Clara said excitedly.

  “Oh, it’s nothing.” Silk lowered her eyes, pretending to be modest.

  “Don’t be shy; tell them about all those fancy items you got stored in the chest for when you set up housekeeping,” Clara prompted.

  “Well, I have a set of silverware, silver candlesticks, bone china, lots of crystal, including a crystal butter dish, a ceramic serving bowl, several sets of beautiful bed linen, embroidered hand towels…oh, and I have all sorts of knickknacks and many other household items. My hope chest is filled to the brim.”

  “When is that boyfriend of yours going to officially become a doctor?” Sister Beverly inquired.

  “He’s in his last year of medical school, and after that, he has to complete a year of being an intern,” Silk said, repeating what she’d overheard one of Big Mama’s white clients say while speaking about her son, the future doctor.

  “Hmm. Seems like colored doctors always end up marrying high-yella girls,” Sister Beverly commented. Clara shot Sister Beverly a disapproving look.

  Sensing hostility in Sister Beverly’s voice, Silk said in a timid voice, “I’m gonna go check on the children.”

  “That wasn’t very nice of you to say,” Clara chastised Sister Beverly as Silk left the dining room. “She can’t help her color no more than you or I can help ours.”

  “I stated a fact,” Sister Beverly said, holding her ground. “Do any of you know of any colored doctors married to a brown-skinned gal? Those light-bright women tend to snatch up all the prominent colored men—doctors and preachers and such.”

  The flock of women muttered in agreement.

  Clara joined Silk in the living room. “Don’t pay Sister Beverly any mind. She can be rude at times, but that’s just her way; you’ll get used to her.”

  “It’s okay; I know she didn’t mean any harm.”

  “You’re so forgiving; you’re practically a saint, Silk. I’m mighty pleased to have a friend like you.”

  “The feeling is mutual; now introduce me to your niece and nephews.”

  “The boys seem to be doing fine, jumping around and roughhousing all over the place. But my niece, Dallas, she’s been keeping to herself and not talking much. It’s hard to know what’s going on inside her head.”

  Silk glanced at the well-groomed little girl who was sitting on the shiny tile floor, playing jacks by herself. Gathered around the TV set, two scrawny boys with bright eyes were wiggling around, emitting squeals of excitement as they watched The Lone Ranger.

  Getting an opportunity to watch a TV program was a rarity for Silk and she wanted to join the boys on the sofa and watch the action-packed show.

  “Dallas, Myron, and Bruce,” Clara said, calling the children to attention. “I want you to meet a good friend of mine from down South. Her name is Miss Silk and your daddy said it’s all right if she stays here at the house with us for a while.”

  The boys, Bruce and Myron, gazed at Silk briefly, and then returned their attention to the TV. Accustomed to being admired by the male species in general—coloreds, whites, and even scrawny little boys—Silk didn’t appreciate the quick and dismissive manner in which the boys had evaluated her. She took an immediate disliking toward them, but didn’t let it show.

  Reflected in the girl’s eyes, Silk saw the admiration that the boys hadn’t shown. In a soft voice, Dallas said, “Hi,” and then returned to her solo game of jacks.

  The little girl was obviously grieving for her dead mother; Silk could see the sorrow in the child’s eyes. She joined Dallas on the floor. “You’re pretty good at jacks.”

  “I’m in my foursies,” Dallas said in a somber tone as she shook the metal objects in her hand and then tossed them onto the floor.

  “Can I play with you?”

  “Ladies don’t play jacks,” Dallas said, gazing at Silk quizzically.

  “I do. It’s always been one of my favorite games. But down South we don’t get to play with shiny jacks like these.”

  “What do you play with?” Dallas inquired.

  “Bottle caps, pebbles, and stones,” Silk admitted, accidentally letting it slip out that she was from humble beginnings. She caught herself and said, “I mean, the poor little kids I taught when I was a student teacher had to play with stones. They’d love to have a store-bought set like you have.”

  “They play jacks with stones?” Dallas wrinkled her nose.

  “Some children aren’t as privileged as you are,” Clara piped in.

  “If you let me play, you won’t have to start over. You can stay in your foursies, and I’ll try to catch up with you.”

  “Okay,” Dallas said, returning her attention to the game. She threw the ball up and scooped four jacks into her palm, and then caught the ball in the same hand. When she tried to scoop up the next set of four jacks that weren’t spaced close together, she dropped the ball.

  “It’s my turn,” Silk said gleefully. She picked up all ten jacks, rattling them around in her hand. Giving the jacks a wide toss, she began tos
sing the ball upward and picking up the jacks one at a time. She quickly caught up to Dallas, but instead of surpassing her, Silk deliberately dropped the ball, giving Dallas another chance.

  “You’re down; it’s my turn again,” Dallas said, excitement shining on her face as she scooped the jacks off the floor.

  Seeing that Silk was coaxing Dallas out of her shell, Clara gave Silk a wink and made her way back to the dining room, rejoining the church folks.

  Silk clapped her hands gleefully as Dallas progressed in the game. “You’re a lot better than I thought you’d be. I’m going to have to get some practice in if I expect to beat you.”

  Silk’s complimentary words brought a bright smile to the little girl’s face.

  The sound of tires crunching over gravel was heard. “Daddy’s home,” the boys exclaimed. “Let’s ask him to help us put together our new model airplanes.” Bruce and Myron raced across the room and pushed open the screen door, welcoming their father home.

  The church women as well as Clara began moving from the dining room to the living room, their faces etched with sympathy. A few of them, Silk noticed, were primping their hair and smoothing out the wrinkles in their clothes. Apparently, some of the women had a little more on their minds than to simply console the grieving widower.

  Showing respect, Silk rose from the floor, telling Dallas, “We’ll finish the game later.” Dallas stood next to Silk and Silk put an arm around the child’s shoulder. Dallas rested her head against Silk’s side, a sign that she was warming up to the newcomer.

  A man who was the color of blackstrap molasses walked through the door. He was medium height and weight, wearing a short-sleeved shirt that exposed muscular arms. He had a quiet dignity about him—a manly man who possessed full sensual lips and a thick head of kinky hair. His grim expression didn’t disguise his good looks. In fact, the scowl that came from grieving the sudden loss of his wife made him even more attractive to Silk. He reminded her of the photographs she’d seen in movie magazines of actor Sidney Poitier.